


Fathers' Day

by Cerusee



Series: Batfam Week 2017 [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2017, Father's Day, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is a Good Son, Jason and Babs go to the mall!, Jason is a goddamn human chocolate-chip pancake, the legal bare minimum of Jason Todd angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerusee/pseuds/Cerusee
Summary: It’s Jason’s first Father’s Day at the Manor.  He manages to surprise pretty much everybody.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to audreycritter for editing, and for helping me develop the initial idea and puzzle out Jason’s choice of gifts.
> 
> For the Batfam Week theme: “Father’s Day”.

Jason leaned over the counter, face so close to the glass his breath left patches of mist on it, carefully examining the contents of the display case.

“Those,” he finally said, pointing at his selection. “Please.”

“Good choice, sir,” the clerk told him. “Would you like them wrapped up?”

“Yes, please,” Jason said.

“And how will you be paying today, sir?”

_Sir_. That word was still new and strange to Jason’s ears. Especially from people besides Alfred. “With cash,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

The clerk eyed him a little dubiously.

“It’s legit,” Jason assured him. “My name is Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne is my dad. He adopted me last year. This is, um, this is my first Father’s Day with him.” _It’s real_ , he told himself. _It happened; it’s real._ “You probably read about it in the papers?”

And perhaps the clerk had indeed read about it in the papers. Or maybe it was the respectably dressed woman standing behind him and giving the clerk a nod, because he accepted the bills Jason handed him without comment. Jason thought there was even a sympathetic wrinkle to his eyebrow. Maybe.

Truth be told, Jason was pretty nervous about carrying this much cash on him—he'd never had this much money all at once in his whole life before, much less on his person—and terrified he was going to lose it somehow. But he was too young for his own credit card, and having someone come with him and pay for their gifts themselves would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it? He consoled himself with the thought that after all his Robin training, he could probably take anybody who tried to jump him for it.

He accepted the package from the clerk, tucked it up under his arm next to the wrapped box. _Three down, two to go._

 

**One week ago:**

 

“I don’t know what to get!” Jason blurted out at Alfred, without entirely meaning to.

Alfred turned from the stove he’d been scrubbing before Jason burst into the kitchen. “What do you need to _get_ , Master Jason?”

“For Father’s Day,” he said. “We started talking about in in class. But I’ve never done it.” Jason squirmed. “I used to give Mom flowers for Mother’s Day, even if it was just, you know. Dandelions from the parking lot. She loved it no matter what. But my dad…he was never around. It didn’t come up. And now I don’t know what I’m supposed to get!” He tried to suppress the panic in his voice.

“Calm yourself, Master Jason.” Alfred indicated that Jason should take a seat, and he did so. Alfred sat across from him, stripping off his yellow rubber gloves and setting them to the side. “It’s not as complicated as all that,” he said.

“It’s not?”

“It’s not, I assure you. Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, has its own set of conventions and traditions. You brought your mother flowers, which she appreciated. Traditional gifts for fathers include such things as ties, cufflinks, cologne. You can choose anything else you’d like, of course; I promise you that Master Bruce will appreciate the intent of your gift no matter what. But if you need suggestions, there they are.”

“Okay,” Jason said, his eyes watering from a combination of worry and relief. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, half risen from his chair. “Might I ask how you intended to purchase Master Bruce’s gift?”

“Uh,” Jason scrunched his forehead. “Well, I have my allowance.”

“Very good,” Alfred said. “But you needn’t use that for a gift for your own family.” Jason started to protest, but Alfred tutted him. “You don’t have your own income, Master Jason—or at least, I hope you don’t, anymore—so it falls upon this household to provide for your needs. Including this. No worries, young sir.” Alfred patted Jason’s hand. “For this, I can draw on the household accounts.”

“Um,” Jason said, nonplussed. “Thank you, Alfred.”

 

**Six days ago:**

Jason sidled into the study where Bruce sat poring over papers on his desk, knocking on the door in passing just to announce his presence. “Bruce…?” he said, tentatively.

“Hm?” Bruce looked up. “Oh hello, Jason, come on in. What’s up?”

“I need some advice.”

“All right.”

“I wanted to...get Alfred something for Father’s Day. But I’m not sure what.”

“Oh.” Bruce paused for a long, long moment, just long enough for Jason to start to think he’d made a terrible mistake. “Well. Things he would like. Things that interest him.”

“Like...tea?”

Bruce laughed. “Yes, you could...maybe a nice tea chest or something. I’m sure he’d like anything practical. Maybe things he could use for the kitchen. Although he’ll be happy with anything you give him, I promise you, Jay.”

Jason considered this, and nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to go.

“Oh wait—Jason. Hold on.”

Jason turned back. “Yessir.”

“Don’t yessir _me_ , son. Here,” Bruce pawed through a desk drawer. He pulled out a fold of bills and held them out towards Jason. “Use this, all right?”

Jason took the money, feeling slightly numb with the sheer weight of it. He didn’t even have to count it to see that it was hundreds of dollars. Far too much for this, far too much for him. “Okay,” he said, anyway. “Thanks, Bruce.”

 

**Four days ago:**

“Robin to Batgirl! Robin to Batgirl! Over!”

“Excuse me?” came the indignant voice out of the communicator. “Who is this? How did you get this frequency?”

“Shhh!” Jason said. “Not so loud, _he’ll_ hear. This is Robin...um, Robin 2.0? I got it from the Batcomputer, Ms. Batgirl.”

The line went quiet for a long moment. “All right,” the voice said, eventually. “What’s going on? And again, who exactly are you?”

“Well, the thing is, Ms. Batgirl—”

“—it’s just Batgirl.”

“Sorry, Batgirl. I’m the new Robin. I got hired last year.”

“Oh, did you.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Batgirl. Sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I sort of need a ride.”

“A ride?” Jason could hear the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“To...where?”

“The mall,” Jason said. “I need to go shopping for Father’s Day presents and no one can know.”

For a minute or two, all Jason could hear on the line was the faint sound of keys tapping. Then Batgirl laughed. “All right, Jason,” she said. “I’ll drive you to the mall.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “I—I didn’t—that’s not my—”

“Relax, kiddo,” Batgirl said. “I know your name. I know everything. Batman knows that I know everything. Or at least, he put it in your file, which is the same thing. I’ll pick you up at 10am at central HQ this Saturday, okay?”

“Okay,” Jason said into the comm, faintly awed. “Thanks, Batgirl.” He heard the click of her disconnecting the line, but he clutched the comm to his shoulder for a whole five minutes anyway.

_Batgirl had talked to him._

 

**Earlier today:**

“...so all in all, I’m pretty much retired from the night life these days,” Barbara said, putting the car in park.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I read _your_ file,” Jason said, glancing over at her as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “It didn’t say that.”

“Bruce is in denial,” Barbara said, sliding out of the driver’s seat. “Do you want me with you? I can come along, or just hang out here.” She waved at the coffeeshop at the entrance of the mall.

_Yes, please, I don't know what I'm doing,_ Jason thought. He shut the passenger door carefully. “Uh. You have a dad, right?” _Of course she does, you moron, she’s the police commissioner’s daughter!_

Barbara just seemed amused. “Yeah, I have a dad.”

“If you wouldn't mind coming along—I mean, I want to choose things myself, but I've never done this before, and I just want to make sure I pick good things.”

“You’ve _never_ bought anything for your father before?” she said, her voice light and skeptical, as they walked towards the mall entrance.

“Not really, no. Never for my dad—I mean, my bio dad, he wasn't around much. And there wasn't money to buy stuff for my mom.” His eyes dropped to his feet and he felt shame burning inside at the things he _had_ bought for Mom. He'd never wanted to, but he couldn't stand to see her in so much pain, so he always broke down and went back to her dealer in the end.

The thought of explaining this to Barbara Gordon, to _Batgirl_ , nauseated him.

“Jason,” Barbara said, and there was something off about her voice. “Has anyone ever given _you_ a present?”

“Oh sure,” he said. “When I was a kid, I got a Wonder Woman doll. Mom said she was worried I wouldn't want it because it was a girl toy, but you know, who cares? Wonder Woman is _awesome_. And Emmy, she was my babysitter when I was little—she knitted me mittens and a hat. Oh, and I used to have a jacket Mom got from a charity drive. I outgrew it, though.” 

He suddenly wished he still had the doll, even if it was an ancient, little kid toy from when he was a baby. He'd left it at their old apartment. He hadn't really been thinking clearly when he left, and he'd never been able to bring himself to go back to look for it. 

It was probably in a landfill somewhere now. 

“And this Christmas, wow. I, um, I got a LOT of stuff.” It had freaked him out because he hadn't thought to get anything for Bruce or Alf. To be honest, the things he'd been most excited for about Christmas were the big dinner and the unbelievably huge and beautifully decorated tree. The presents from Mom and the Christmases they’d celebrated together had been a long, long time ago; he'd all but forgotten that exchanging gifts was even a part of the holiday. Other people did that, not Jason. But he was determined to make up for it now.

The way Barbara was looking at him was making him feel weird, though. Pity, sure, he recognized pity, but there was something else there, too, and he didn't know what it was.

“Okay, then,” Barbara said. “Let’s go pick out some cool presents for your dad.”

“And Alfred,” Jason said, holding the door open for her.

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that why you didn't ask him to drive you?”

“Well, yeah,” Jason said. “Bruce was the one who _adopted_ me”—it was cool, his voice was firm and steady—”but Alfie takes care of me, too. I can't get something for Bruce and _not_ get something for Alfred.”

“No,” Barbara said softly. “Of course not.”

 

“Wow,” Jason said, staring up at the sign. “That’s _perfect_.”

“Really? Hand-made aprons? Are you kidding me… _Jason_?” Barbara audibly sighed as she followed Jason into the store.

Jason ignored her, and approached the man behind the counter. “Excuse me, sir, do you have anything in this size?” He pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, flipping past a couple of pages, and pushed it towards the man.

The man glanced at the page, leaned over an inventory book for a minute, and then smiled at Jason. “You’re in luck, kid.” He disappeared into the back room.

He reappeared a few minutes later, and laid his selection on the counter. Jason ran his hands over it tentatively. He glanced up at Barbara.

She stroked her forefinger over it. “This is good quality,” she told Jason. “If you think he’ll like it, I say go ahead and get it.”

“He’ll like it.” Jason nodded at the man confidently. “I’ll take it.”

 

He hardly knew where to look. Every wall was filled with instruments of gleaming stainless steel and rubber handles. Salt shakers filled with pink salt; pepper shakers filled with colors he hadn’t known pepper could _be_. Everything was so _specific_. Empty lemonade pitchers and avocado slicers and eight million different kinds of Tupperware. An endless array of cutting board and gadgets that Jason wasn’t even sure how to use.

What the hell did you even do with all of this? Who knew there were so many different kinds of cooking equipment?

If Barbara hadn’t been there next to him, he’d probably have given up and cried already.

“Excuse me,” he said faintly, to the first red-vested store attendant he saw. “Do you sell grilling tongs?”

 

He eventually emerged with a pair of rubber-handled stainless steel tongs, two spice rubs --mesquite and brown-sugar-bourbon--and a lingering sense of shock. Barbara patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go for those cufflinks, okay?”

 

It had taken a few hours, but Jason finally had everything he needed—well, not quite everything, but everything he could get at the mall. Now that he had all his packages, safely wrapped in paper, everything with Barbara’s seal of approval, his anxiety was subsiding and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He’d had a hearty breakfast, courtesy of Alfred, but it was well past one, and his stomach was protesting the lack of lunch.

Barbara must have heard it growling, or maybe she was hungry, too, because she glanced at him and said, “Do you feel like hitting the food court?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Jason said. “You won’t tell Alfred if I get a chili-dog, will you?”

Barbara’s mouth quirked. “Your secret is safe with me,” she said, crossing her heart.

At the court, Jason sighed happily and practically inhaled his first dog. He made a noise of pure bliss.

“Alfred doesn’t let you have junk food all that often, huh?” Barbara said, and took a hearty bite out of her own veggie pizza.

Jason shook his head, and swallowed. “He says he’ll instill healthy eating habits in at least _one_ of us, even if it kills him.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, even though he was just going to get messy again when he ate the second one. He didn’t want Barbara to think he had bad manners.

She laughed. “Well, in my opinion, a salad at the mall food court is a wasted opportunity.” She sipped her soda. “Okay, Jason. I don’t know that much about you, except for what Bruce put in your file. What do you like to do for fun?”

Jason blinked. “Aside from, you know,” he mouthed the word _Robin_ , “uh, I like to read. And mess around with cars.”

“Ahhh, the cars.” Barbara arched an eyebrow at him. It was almost like Alfred’s eyebrow. He wondered if she learned it from him.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Did he put _that_ in my file?” he hissed.

“He did indeed.” Barbara’s eyes twinkled. “I haven’t laughed that hard in _years_.” She chuckled, and dropped her voice by half an octave. “ _You got moxie, kid._ ”

“Oh my god,” Jason said.

“So you like to read? You’re a boy after my librarian’s heart. How about we hit up the bookstore on the way out?”

Jason grinned at her, embarrassment wiped out at the prospect of book shopping. “‘Kay.”

 

Barbara wasn’t in a hurry, apparently; she seemed content to wander after Jason as he scoured the science fiction and young adult shelves, occasionally pausing to flip through something herself. Jason felt a pang of guilt when he realized he’d have to use the money Bruce and Alfred had given him for Father’s Day gifts if he wanted to buy any books, but he told himself he’d make up the difference from his allowance before he returned the leftover cash. He couldn’t very well ask Barbara to lend him the money when he had a wallet stuffed thick with twenties.

He’d assembled a pile of books about three feet high, but felt guilty looking at it, and put back half. When he’d gotten it down to something he thought he could carry along with his packages, he made his way up to the counter. Barbara was already there, slipping something into her purse as she turned towards him. He thought she was going to say something, but she just smiled at the sight of the stack.

“All set?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, pushing the books towards the cashier, who also smiled at him.

“Someone’s a big reader, huh?” The cashier took one of the science fiction paperbacks from the stack and smoothed a hand over the cover before scanning it. “Great choice. I love her.”

“Thanks,” Jason said. As the cashier continued to scan the books, Jason pulled his notebook out again, and said to Barbara, “Hey, on the way back can we swing by—” he checked his notes. “—Maroney’s Meat Market?”

Barbara laughed. “I had a feeling that was where this was going,” she said. “No problem.”

 

Barbara walked him to the front door. Alfred opened the door before either of them could. “Welcome home, Master Jason,” Alfred said. He nodded at Barbara. “Lovely to see you as always, Miss Gordon. It’s been too long. Won't you come in?”

“Just for a minute,” Barbara said, leaning forward to hug Alfred, then following Jason inside.

“Thank you for driving me,” Jason said. “And for all your advice.”

“It was my pleasure, kiddo,” Barbara said, with a smile on her face that made her words sound genuine. “I had fun hanging out. Give me a call anytime, okay?”

“Okay,” Jason said, smiling back.

“You should go get those wrapped, in case someone,” she raised an eyebrow, “gets curious about them.”

Jason had a feeling she was shooing him away so she could talk privately to Alfred—adults always seemed to want to talk privately when Jason was around—but he went anyway. 

It was sheer coincidence that his shoelace came untied just around the corner, prompting him to dump his packages on the floor and kneel to tighten it. Honest.

He was close enough to the front hall to clearly hear Barbara say to Alfred, “You’ve got a terrific kid there.” 

“We’re well aware, Miss Gordon,” Alfred replied, with—was that _pride_ in his voice?

“Take good care of him, okay?” She lowered her voice a little, but Jason could still make her words out. “...know that he’s hardly gotten any presents _ever_? He's what, ...most thirteen now?”

“...wasn't aware of that precise fact, no.” There was a long pause. Jason held his breath. “That might explain the...intensity of his reaction at Christmas, though,” he heard Alfred say.

“I can only imagine,” Barbara said ruefully, and oh god, if either one of them realized he was eavesdropping on them now, he was gonna _die_. He scooped the packages up from the floor as quietly as he could and tiptoed down the carpeted hallway, hoping to have escaped Alfred’s preternatural senses just this once.

 

Later, when he came down for dinner, Bruce caught him on the way to the dining room. “Oh there you are, Jay. Alfred asked me to give this to you. Barbara forgot to give you this before she left this afternoon, and she asked him to pass it along.” He handed Jason a smallish rectangular package, wrapped in the paper of the very same bookstore they’d been in earlier.

Jason blinked, surprised. “Thank you.” He tore off the paper to reveal a yellow-and-brown paperback with a soulful looking rabbit on the cover. The title read _Watership Down_.

He could feel a slight thickness under cover. He flipped to the title page, and found a slender paper bookmark tucked into the book there, the letter J printed in pale blue on a white background with a tan border, as elaborately illustrated as an illuminated manuscript.

She’d written a note underneath the title.

_Dear Jason,_

_I think you’ll like this. It’s about a journey that ends in a new home._

_P.S.  
My friends call me Babs._


	2. Chapter 2

Jason kept an eye on the bacon sizzling in the pan next to him while he cut up the fruit: melons and strawberries and pineapple. The first round of bread was already in the toaster, and on the counter, there was a bowl of seasoned, beaten eggs ready for scrambling as soon as everything else was close to done. The sound of bubbling alerted him that the water in the electric kettle had come to a boil, so he put down the knife and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. He carefully poured the boiling water over the tea egg in the pot, and set a timer for five minutes.

Just in time, he turned back to the stove to flip the bacon. _Whew_. The most important element in cooking, Alfred had taught him, was _timing_. Everything was pulling together pretty well ( _this_ time, he thought, casting a guilty eye over at the trash can where he’d dumped his disastrously failed attempt at crepes an hour ago); he just hoped Bruce decided not to sleep in this morning. Alfred, he knew, would be along any minute now.

In fact…”Goodness gracious, Master Jason, what’s all this?” Alfred appeared suddenly behind him.

“Breakfast!” Jason said, sparing just a glance at Alfred before turning back to the bacon, which was...just...about— _done_. He used tongs to transfer the bacon from the pan onto a plate lined with paper towels, and covered it with a dry dish towel and moved it into the pre-heated oven to keep it warm. He turned the heat on the stove down low, and then moved the pan to another burner to let it cool off just a bit. He buttered the first pieces of toast, popped them into the oven with the bacon, and put a second round of bread into the toaster. “Do you think Bruce will be down soon? I’m about start the eggs. They’ll take about ten minutes, and I don’t want them to sit too long.”

“I can fetch him, if need be,” Alfred said. “You seem to have things well in hand, but might I ask what prompted this impulse to take on the morning meal?”

The timer went off, and Jason fished the tea egg out the teapot, setting it in the sink to deal with later, when it had cooled. He covered the pot with the tea cozy. “It’s Father’s Day,” he said. Alfred raised his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t have to cook on Father’s Day? It’s like your birthday?”

“Oh,” Alfred said, sounding slightly choked up. “I see. Well then, I’ll go rouse Master Bruce, so your efforts here won’t be wasted.” He strode briskly out of the room.

Jason wasn’t sure what all _that_ was about, so he turned back to the stove and poured the eggs into the pan with bacon fat.

A few minutes later, Alfred returned, shepherding a sleepy-looking Bruce, still in his dressing gown. Bruce yawned hugely. “Tell me there’s coffee,” he said.

“Uh,” Jason said, guiltily. “There’s tea?”

“No coffee?” Bruce’s voice had a slight whine to it.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t figure out how to work the machine,” Jason said. “It has _so many buttons_ , Bruce! Couldn’t you have gotten a simpler one?”

It’s not like he hadn’t tried before (when Alfred wasn’t home), after he’d found out that he was considered _“a little young for coffee, sport”_. He’d even looked for the instruction manual, with no success. He suspected Alfred might have hidden it.

“I’ll brew some right now, Master Bruce,” Alfred assured him, pushing him gently in the direction of the kitchen table. 

Jason had forgotten to set either it or the dining room table, but he supposed the decision about where to eat had just been made. The eggs were done, so Jason scraped them out of the pan onto a plate, and hauled himself up onto the counter to pull plates and bowls out of the cupboard.

“Master Jason,” Alfred said, with slight exasperation. Jason rolled his eyes where Alfred couldn’t see, and hopped back down. If they didn’t want him climbing on the kitchen counter, they ought to get a stool. It wasn’t _his_ fault he was short. He took the dishes and set the table.

Bruce sat, watching him, still somewhat bleary-eyed. “Did you do all this, Jay?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “Alfred shouldn’t have to cook on Father’s Day, right?”

“I see,” Bruce said. “That was very thoughtful of you, Jason.” He smiled at him.

Jason grinned back, and went to retrieve the food from the oven, slipping on a pair of oven mitts first.

Alfred set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Bruce, who wrapped his hands around the mug and bent his head over it, inhaling the scent and groaning happily. Jason looked at it longingly. Bruce put up a finger. “You may have _one_ ,” he said. “Because it’s a special occasion.”

Jason almost yelped for joy. “Thanks, Bruce!” Alfred turned to retrieve a second mug for Jason.

Once all the food and dishes were on the table, they dug in without formality. It was nice to eat with Alfred; he didn’t always eat with them, which Jason thought was ridiculous, especially since he knew Bruce had no problem with it. 

“This is excellent, Jay,” Bruce said, munching on a piece of toast. 

“Yes indeed, Master Todd,” Alfred said. “Well done.”

“It was supposed to be crepes, but, uh….that didn’t work out.”

Alfred chuckled. “How ambitious of you! We can practice making them together later, if you’d like.”

Jason beamed. “That’d be great.”

 

When breakfast was done and eaten, Jason shooed Bruce and Alfred out of the kitchen—he saw Alfred eyeing the sink and told him not to even think about it—and started cleaning up. He'd done his best to tidy up after himself while he was cooking, the way Alfred did, so there was comparatively little mess, and it didn't take long. He loaded the dishwasher and set it to run.

He went upstairs to fetch the presents, and then in search of Bruce and Alfred. Bruce was in his study, on the phone. His body language was stiff, his tone strained. He glanced at Jason and attempted to smile at him, although it came out more like a grimace. Jason decided it was probably best to leave him alone until that was wrapped up, whatever it was.

He found Alfred in the library, not dusting or tidying, as he so often was when he was in there, but relaxing in one of the armchairs, leafing through a book. “I had a list of chores to do,” Alfred said, looking up at him, “but I have the feeling that if I make any attempt to do them, you’ll follow me around all day trying to dissuade me.”

“You’re getting the hang of this,” Jason told him. “Do you know how long Bruce is going to be on the phone?”

“Not too much longer, I should think,” Alfred said. “That’s Master Richard on the phone, calling to wish Master Bruce a happy Father’s Day. Things have been a bit...tense of late, though, so I don't imagine either of them will draw it out.” He sighed.

“I guess that's why he looked so stressed out.” Jason knew about Dick Grayson, of course, although he'd never met him. The first Robin. Jason tried not to think about him too much. He'd only been Robin for six months now, and the idea of having to live up to his amazing predecessor—of anybody comparing them—made him feel anxious.

“Those are Father’s Day gifts, I take it?” Alfred said, nodding at Jason’s packages. “I meant to inquire what you’d ended up getting on your shopping expedition with Miss Gordon.”

Jason grinned at him. “You’ll find out when you open yours.”

“Mine—oh my heavens, I thought breakfast was to be my gift.” Alfred raised his eyebrows to the ceiling.

“Well, sure, if you want it to be, it can be one. But I got you some real presents too.” He wasn't quite sure why Alfred was confused. He almost wondered if he’d misunderstood something, but surely Barbara— _Babs _—would have said something if he had? He pushed two of the packages over towards Alfred. “These are yours. Don’t open them until I get back!”__

____

____

Bruce was just setting the phone the down, frowning and pinching the bridge of his nose when Jason revisited the study. His unhappiness made Jason feel unhappy in turn, and he scowled, suddenly feeling very defensive on Bruce’s behalf. “Was that...Dick?” 

“Yes,” Bruce said, sounding far too tired for a man who’d had two cups of coffee already. 

“How come he...he’s in New York, right?” That’s what Alfred had said. Dick was only an hour away. “He could’ve come to visit you guys.” Jason didn’t particularly _want_ Dick to visit, for a variety of reasons, not least of which was that he’d put that frown on Bruce’s face and right now Jason thought Dick sounded like a huge jerk. But one short, tense phone call seemed entirely inadequate to Jason as a means of expressing how important Bruce and Alfred were. Jason knew Dick had actually _grown up_ in this house, in their care; did he not understand how lucky he had been? 

Bruce managed a pained smile. “He’s busy. He’s building his own life for himself right now.” 

“Hmmph.” 

That got a genuine-sounding laugh out of Bruce. “C’mere.” 

Jason sat on the edge of the desk. Bruce patted his leg. “Don’t be so harsh towards Dick. This holiday has always been hard on him. John Grayson—his father—was a good man, and Dick mourned him, along with his mother, for years. He still does. It was the same for me. Don’t think I don’t appreciate everything Alfred has done for me, or that I don’t love him deeply. But a part of me will always mourn the loss of my own parents. The grief of losing a family member can make special holidays like this one...difficult.” His hand strayed up to cup Jason’s cheek. “Remember how down you felt last month?” 

Jason remembered. Alfred had helped him pick out a huge bouquet of white lilies, and he and Bruce had taken him to visit Catherine’s grave. It was the first time he’d been. Before he’d met Bruce, she hadn’t even had a headstone. The headstone was quite new, in fact, as Bruce hadn’t been aware of that until sometime in late April, when he had first tentatively broached the visit to Jason as a way to observe Mother’s Day, and Jason admitted to not knowing where she was actually buried. Bruce had plunged into a flurry of research, found the gravesite, investigated it, and then come home and immediately placed an order with a stonemason. 

She had an angel watching over her now. Jason wasn’t entirely sure he believed in the existence of angels, but the angel was a very beautiful angel and he found the thought of her comforting. Even if he had sorta burst into tears the first time he saw her. 

But that was his mom. His dad, on the other hand… 

“I don’t miss Willis,” Jason said in a small voice. “Should I? Am I bad for not missing him? I like it _here_. I like being with you and Alf. I do miss Mom, but if Dad—if Willis somehow turned up alive on the doorstep tomorrow, I wouldn’t want to go with him. I would want to stay here, with you.” 

“Oh Jason,” Bruce said. The way he looked at Jason sort of hurt, and was sort of wonderful, and Jason had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. 

Bruce swept him into a crushing hug. Jason buried his face in Bruce’s shoulder, smelling the familiar scents of Bruce’s shaving cream and his cologne. He had no memory of what Willis smelled like. “It’s all right, Jason,” Bruce said. “You’re just fine.” 

They stayed that way for a long moment, and then Jason pulled away and hopped off the desk. “Well come on, then,” he said, tugging Bruce by the hand out of the study. 

“Come on where?” 

“It’s time for presents, in the library.” 

“Oh yes,” Bruce said. “I never did ask what you ended up getting.” 

“Geez, you’re both so impatient, you guys can’t wait five minutes to just open them and see?” Jason did his best Alfred-eyebrow, which still wasn’t very good. Maybe if he had another eighty years to practice. 

“Both...oh! I see now.” Bruce actually did look enlightened, although about what, Jason had no idea. “You got presents for us both.” 

“....uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“It’s just—never mind. Don’t worry about it at all. I can’t wait to see what you picked out.” 

“Ah, there you are, Master Jason. Just in time, I was about to open these in spite of all your admonitions,” Alfred said, as they walked into the library. He was putting down the same book he’d been reading before, though, so Jason was pretty sure he was just messing with him. 

“Just for that, Bruce gets to go first.” He handed Bruce his packages. 

“All right, then.” Bruce opened the first one, which happened to be the spice rubs. He blinked. “Sure these weren’t for Alfred, chum?" 

“Nope, those are yours. C’mon, open the others.” Jason jiggled his knee with impatience. He was pretty sure these were good. Babs seemed to think they were. 

Next were the grilling tongs. And then… 

“Well, will you look at that,” Bruce breathed, seemingly impressed, and Jason quietly exhaled in relief. Bruce lifted the contents of the package and shook it out. It was a tan leather apron, designed to withstand the heat of a grill, accentuated with black leather straps and stainless steel buckles and hooks. 

“It’s hand-made,” Jason said. 

“It’s great, Jay, thank you.” Bruce looked incredibly pleased, and he stood up to try it on. It fit perfectly, and Jason was glad he’d called Bruce’s tailor for his measurements. Bruce was a big guy, you couldn’t just assume something off the rack was going to fit him. 

“There’s steaks, too, in the refrigerator. From Niman Farms. They’re supposed to be the best. I placed an order with a butcher,” he said. “Uh, when we met, Clark told me you grill a mean steak. I thought maybe for dinner? I can do corn and potato salad and stuff to go with them.” 

Bruce beamed at him. “What a wonderful idea. Yes, I think we can do that.” He took the apron off, and sat, folding it carefully. “All right, Alfred, I guess it’s your turn now.” 

Alfred slid a finger under the tape of his first gift, neatly separating it from the paper, to reveal a long, narrow box, and inside of that, a tie. Alfred smoothed his fingers across the silk gently, a pattern of pink and blue flowers, on a background of purple and light blue. “A traditional gift,” he said, and his voice was tight with emotion, more than Jason had ever heard from him. “How lovely, Master Jason. Thank you.” He caressed the tie for another moment, and then set it aside to open the second package, which was quite small. This was revealed to contain silver-and-burgundy cufflinks in a stylized floral design. 

“I figured you could use cufflinks, ‘cause Bruce always forgets his when he’s getting dressed up for fancy events, and then he borrows yours in the car on the way and loses them later on,” Jason explained. He glanced at Bruce. “You’d better not borrow _these_.” 

Bruce put a hand up. “Scout’s honor,” he said. 

Alfred hadn’t said anything since opening the box, but after a long moment, he finally choked out, “They’re beautiful, Master Jason.” He held out his arms, and Jason obligingly came over for a hug. He was surprised at how firmly the old man held him, though, or for how long. “I really could not have asked for anything better than this, young sir,” Alfred said quietly, into Jason’s ear. “Thank you so very much.” 

“You’re welcome,” Jason mumbled, not at all unhappy, but still a little taken aback by the quiet intensity of Alfred’s reaction. Alfred finally released him. 

“Perhaps I’d better go and try these on,” he said, and left the room rather quickly. Jason knew Alfred didn’t need a mirror to put on a tie or a pair of cufflinks, but his eyes had been suspiciously bright, so he let him go without a word. 

Jason and Bruce sat silently for a few minutes. “Was that okay?” Jason eventually asked. “You don’t think I upset him, do you?” 

“It was perfectly okay,” Bruce assured him. “It’s...the thing is, Jay, you took him by surprise. Me too, I confess.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Although he has certainly filled the role in many ways, Alfred is not a traditional father, Jason,” Bruce said. “I always tried to honor him—well, when I was older, I did; those first years were pretty rough on us both. But it never occurred to me to observe the rituals of Father’s Day with him. Nor did it occur to Dick.” 

“Oh,” Jason said. _Well, that was dumb of you_ , was his first thought. Then he remembered Bruce’s earlier words about mourning lost fathers, and how it complicated things. What if—what a terrible thought, and he shoved it away as fast as he could—but what if _Bruce_ died? Would that hollow out the holiday for Jason, too, even with Alfred still there? And he thought maybe he could see how it had come to be this way. But the look in Alfred’s eyes, the tightness of his grasp…“That’s too bad.” 

“Yes, I think so.” Bruce seemed a little melancholy. “Good think we’ve got you around now, to pick up our slack.” 

Jason looked down at his hands. “I guess so,” he said, biting his lip in a vain effort to stop the smile tugging at his face. 

Bruce stood, and clapped Jason on the shoulder. “All right, Jay-lad, show me these steaks you bought, I want to take a look at them. We’ll have to take them out a couple of hours before we’re ready to start grilling, so they’re at room temperature...oh, in the meantime, you can help me get the grill out of storage and set it up on the patio.” 

As they passed through the front hall, Jason saw Alfred out of the corner of his eye, and swung his head back to look at him. Alfred was standing in front of a mirror, and in its reflection, Jason could see he was wearing his new tie, looking down while he adjusted a cuff. Perhaps Alfred glimpsed him in the mirror, or maybe it was those preternatural butler senses at work again, but he suddenly glanced up and met Jason’s gaze in the mirror. Just before Jason and Bruce went round the corner and Jason lost sight of him, Alfred looked at Jason, and nodded. 

_I did it right,_ Jason thought. 

The feeling was better than coffee, better than a chili-dog, better than the prospect of a steak dinner. Warmer than blankets, warmer than hot chocolate, warmer than a hot shower. Bruce’s hand on Jason’s shoulder, Alfred’s nod. 

_I got it right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 is doing that thing where it keeps borking the tags, so I will try to do this manually:
> 
> In case anybody was wondering, Alfred got these cuff links: http://www.barneys.com/product/barneys-new-york-floral-cufflinks-504696729.html
> 
> and this tie: http://www.barneys.com/product/kiton-floral-print-silk-necktie-504974847.html
> 
> Bruce got the tan leather apron at the top: http://archinspire.pro/handmade-grilling-aprons-men-rugged-style/


End file.
